Dark Heretic
By Aglaranna
"Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."
-Jedi Master Yoda Prologue-One Lonely Little Girl
She stood upon the main deck of the Starship Executor. Cool gray eyes surveying all before her. Staring into the repressive blackness undone by bright gems of far away stars. Her lips pursed quietly, reverence of the lonely solitude weighing heavily upon her young mind. 'What a frightening thing is space.' She thought solemnly. When a child on Coruscant she'd stared into the black eclipse, it's tantalizing closeness beckoning with invitations of adventures and heroic journeys. But now, caught within it, space was tiring, if not for her father, she knew, she'd died of boredom. Space was a terrifying thing; it's pitch-black exterior hoarding thousands of glowing baubles within its belly. Space was a dark and lonely place. Filled with drifting stars and tattered planets. A place of sanctuary. A place of death. Finding little meaning in time. Space was apart from it. Beyond birth and beyond death, belonging not even to life, but to a place between. Belonging to a flow, a pattern, connecting the living, and connecting the dead. Connecting them together and binding them, the dark and the light, so that neither was far from the other, and melding them together, just as it had been in the dawn of time. Indifferent to life as it was indifferent to death, for both were an everyday occurrence. As quick to change as the snap-hiss of her father's saber. Dangerous as a double-edged blade. A milky silence demanding reverence and fear. Cold, cold as her grandfather's calculating yellow eyes. There was no love here, like all of her young life, only a cold lonely existence. Even in the days when her mother lived, before the small child met the most powerful man in the galaxy. In the days of bedtime stories and forlorn mornings, she'd been alone.
Yes, space was a terrifying place. It whispered promises of solitary death, the same promises existing in the swish of Lord Vader's cloak, or the clacking of his boots across the steely floor. They came from beneath the black cowl, pressing chilling fingers upon her brain. And inside her secluded heart, the child often wished it were so. Since those days upon the planet Coruscant, tending her weak and frail mother. When she remained isolated in her large room, with windows spread across every outside facing wall. Damned to gaze longingly upon the bustling city below, but never experience it herself. In gray apartments, with ancient paintings spread across the walls, with big mirrors, a humongous bed soft and cuddly, the shelves and desks piled high with the galaxy's best toys and books, but with no one to play with. Cared for by the cold metallic hands of droids, or the emotionless gloves of her red caped guards. Neither made for good companions or good conversations, and they did not make for nice friends. She'd tried to talk to the guards once or twice, but the gruff answers were stony as the walls of her room. They were empty like the droids.
Her only solace during those early years was the few short hours she spent each day with her mother. She saw her mother each evening just before Coruscant's bright sun set in the western mountainous horizon. Every day, the little girl would wake, and sit in her favored chair beside the window, as the teacher droid rattled on, she intently watched the descent of the sun. For each night after dinner, her frail mother would tell her a bedtime story. Always, when the little girl went to see her mother; the woman lay in her large bed, propped up by her fluffy pillows. The little girl could recall her mother's gray face, her sallow skin, and tendrils of fair hair draped across a withered forehead. But always, her mother's similarly gray eyes would light up when the child entered to room. Her worn face would brighten, and the years vanished from her. And the loneliness engulfing the little girl's heart melted away. The rough hands of the guard were always gentle when he picked up the tiny child, and placed her in her mother's lap. The woman would hold her daughter tightly and rock her back and forth, diamond water hidden in the craggy corners of her eyes. Her mother would stroke her hair, long fingers toying and fussing, and the little girl did not feel so alone. Then her mother would tell her tales of the Jedi, her favorite being the story of the Chancellor's daughter who fell for the handsome young Jedi Knight. Each night the girl would excitedly ask for the story, and each night her mother would tell of the forbidden love. She spun the tales around the little girl's heart, and when she became to tired to tell anymore, oft the girl returned to her room dreaming of traveling through the galactic republic, a Jedi, fighting for noble causes and going on grand adventures.
But several years later, when the little girl turned six, her mother passed, and no longer was there stories. There were only fractured tales she whispered to the silent darkness each long night. And as all memories fade, so did those of her mother, and so did those of the stories she etched into the mind of her daughter. Until only the Jedi and his lightsaber of burning blue remained. Eventually, the word Jedi passed from her mind, and as she grew older it was replaced with the dark word Sith.
She was eight when she was first taken to meet the Emperor. Led down the hall by the cold protective hand of her red-cloaked protector beneath his immovable helmet. She clutched to him, her lifeline in these silent imposing halls. She stood beneath scrutiny of the cold yellow eyes, trying hard not to tremble. The Emperor's withered lips curled into a satisfied smile, and her guard set her upon his lap. His withered fingers stroking her hair, no warmth or safety within them, the child stayed frozen, staring into the visor of the red helmet. The Emperor asked her questions, did she know stories? She answered truthfully, she'd known some once. But she could no longer remember. She told him all she remembered were the Jedi, the mighty wielder's of the Force. The Emperor asked her if she'd like to learn about the force. "I don't know sire." She told him. "I doubt I could be a Jedi." He reminded her the Jedi were evil enemies of his Empire, and told her the Sith were the true champions of the Empire. He asked her if she'd like to be Sith, smiling the child told him brightly. "If it would please you.sire."
Then each evening she'd be taken by a black masked man who breathed funny, he would seat her on his lap, and tell her stories of the Sith. Afterwards, he would tuck her into bed, and wait beside her till she fell asleep. He would come each evening and tell her of the Force. Until, she sleepily called him Father, and he did not object. Though imposing, the little girl enjoyed the time spent with this man, her father, and she no longer felt afraid.
Space is a place of past, and lost to the present. The girl fingered the black hilt thudding against her thigh, gazing into the mystifying expanse, the girl drifted into her thoughts and back into her memories. Remembering. In this dark place, upon the deck of the Executor, the Empire's best-kept secret pondered the meaning of her own existence.
"Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."
-Jedi Master Yoda Prologue-One Lonely Little Girl
She stood upon the main deck of the Starship Executor. Cool gray eyes surveying all before her. Staring into the repressive blackness undone by bright gems of far away stars. Her lips pursed quietly, reverence of the lonely solitude weighing heavily upon her young mind. 'What a frightening thing is space.' She thought solemnly. When a child on Coruscant she'd stared into the black eclipse, it's tantalizing closeness beckoning with invitations of adventures and heroic journeys. But now, caught within it, space was tiring, if not for her father, she knew, she'd died of boredom. Space was a terrifying thing; it's pitch-black exterior hoarding thousands of glowing baubles within its belly. Space was a dark and lonely place. Filled with drifting stars and tattered planets. A place of sanctuary. A place of death. Finding little meaning in time. Space was apart from it. Beyond birth and beyond death, belonging not even to life, but to a place between. Belonging to a flow, a pattern, connecting the living, and connecting the dead. Connecting them together and binding them, the dark and the light, so that neither was far from the other, and melding them together, just as it had been in the dawn of time. Indifferent to life as it was indifferent to death, for both were an everyday occurrence. As quick to change as the snap-hiss of her father's saber. Dangerous as a double-edged blade. A milky silence demanding reverence and fear. Cold, cold as her grandfather's calculating yellow eyes. There was no love here, like all of her young life, only a cold lonely existence. Even in the days when her mother lived, before the small child met the most powerful man in the galaxy. In the days of bedtime stories and forlorn mornings, she'd been alone.
Yes, space was a terrifying place. It whispered promises of solitary death, the same promises existing in the swish of Lord Vader's cloak, or the clacking of his boots across the steely floor. They came from beneath the black cowl, pressing chilling fingers upon her brain. And inside her secluded heart, the child often wished it were so. Since those days upon the planet Coruscant, tending her weak and frail mother. When she remained isolated in her large room, with windows spread across every outside facing wall. Damned to gaze longingly upon the bustling city below, but never experience it herself. In gray apartments, with ancient paintings spread across the walls, with big mirrors, a humongous bed soft and cuddly, the shelves and desks piled high with the galaxy's best toys and books, but with no one to play with. Cared for by the cold metallic hands of droids, or the emotionless gloves of her red caped guards. Neither made for good companions or good conversations, and they did not make for nice friends. She'd tried to talk to the guards once or twice, but the gruff answers were stony as the walls of her room. They were empty like the droids.
Her only solace during those early years was the few short hours she spent each day with her mother. She saw her mother each evening just before Coruscant's bright sun set in the western mountainous horizon. Every day, the little girl would wake, and sit in her favored chair beside the window, as the teacher droid rattled on, she intently watched the descent of the sun. For each night after dinner, her frail mother would tell her a bedtime story. Always, when the little girl went to see her mother; the woman lay in her large bed, propped up by her fluffy pillows. The little girl could recall her mother's gray face, her sallow skin, and tendrils of fair hair draped across a withered forehead. But always, her mother's similarly gray eyes would light up when the child entered to room. Her worn face would brighten, and the years vanished from her. And the loneliness engulfing the little girl's heart melted away. The rough hands of the guard were always gentle when he picked up the tiny child, and placed her in her mother's lap. The woman would hold her daughter tightly and rock her back and forth, diamond water hidden in the craggy corners of her eyes. Her mother would stroke her hair, long fingers toying and fussing, and the little girl did not feel so alone. Then her mother would tell her tales of the Jedi, her favorite being the story of the Chancellor's daughter who fell for the handsome young Jedi Knight. Each night the girl would excitedly ask for the story, and each night her mother would tell of the forbidden love. She spun the tales around the little girl's heart, and when she became to tired to tell anymore, oft the girl returned to her room dreaming of traveling through the galactic republic, a Jedi, fighting for noble causes and going on grand adventures.
But several years later, when the little girl turned six, her mother passed, and no longer was there stories. There were only fractured tales she whispered to the silent darkness each long night. And as all memories fade, so did those of her mother, and so did those of the stories she etched into the mind of her daughter. Until only the Jedi and his lightsaber of burning blue remained. Eventually, the word Jedi passed from her mind, and as she grew older it was replaced with the dark word Sith.
She was eight when she was first taken to meet the Emperor. Led down the hall by the cold protective hand of her red-cloaked protector beneath his immovable helmet. She clutched to him, her lifeline in these silent imposing halls. She stood beneath scrutiny of the cold yellow eyes, trying hard not to tremble. The Emperor's withered lips curled into a satisfied smile, and her guard set her upon his lap. His withered fingers stroking her hair, no warmth or safety within them, the child stayed frozen, staring into the visor of the red helmet. The Emperor asked her questions, did she know stories? She answered truthfully, she'd known some once. But she could no longer remember. She told him all she remembered were the Jedi, the mighty wielder's of the Force. The Emperor asked her if she'd like to learn about the force. "I don't know sire." She told him. "I doubt I could be a Jedi." He reminded her the Jedi were evil enemies of his Empire, and told her the Sith were the true champions of the Empire. He asked her if she'd like to be Sith, smiling the child told him brightly. "If it would please you.sire."
Then each evening she'd be taken by a black masked man who breathed funny, he would seat her on his lap, and tell her stories of the Sith. Afterwards, he would tuck her into bed, and wait beside her till she fell asleep. He would come each evening and tell her of the Force. Until, she sleepily called him Father, and he did not object. Though imposing, the little girl enjoyed the time spent with this man, her father, and she no longer felt afraid.
Space is a place of past, and lost to the present. The girl fingered the black hilt thudding against her thigh, gazing into the mystifying expanse, the girl drifted into her thoughts and back into her memories. Remembering. In this dark place, upon the deck of the Executor, the Empire's best-kept secret pondered the meaning of her own existence.